Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“He’s creating perfection while his staff is a well-oiled machine.” She gestures to the first set of servers exiting the area. “If there isn’t anything else, I’ll check on Essence.”
I glimpse the top of the staircase. “Offer Essence tequila.”
Kyleigh’s eyebrows tug together as she says, “No champagne?”
“Her favorite tequila is in the top dresser drawer. A double shot should kill the nerves.”
I turn into the first gallery section, wondering why it’s not blocked off. In each region of the gallery, most of the paintings are covered. The few, which are shown, are scattered at the entrance of A Touch of Essence. I’m repositioning the fallen linen over the painting when Poppy Richmond touches my shoulder.
My glare falls on the hand touching me.
The rich woman grins. “I, uh, like what you all did to the place. It’s much better than Essence’s last event.”
“It is.”
“I took the liberty to preview a few of the still covered paintings. Your eye for Italy...” Essence’s eye for Italy, I contemplate without interjecting. “Is exceptional. The images of Essence—muy caliente!” While Poppy fans herself, I notice my daughter slipping past the red-velvet rope.
Alexis reveals herself with a rowdy “ahem,” making me pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head.
Mi hija sent thirsty women jumping a mile high.
“My offer to pose still stands.” Poppy stalks away, not acknowledging Alexis with so much as a glance.
“I don’t like how she,” Alexis reverts to Spanish, flapping her hand in front of her face. “Are we supposed to glance at the diamonds on that woman’s fingers or her inflatable tatas? She doesn’t give a damn about any of the artists Essence found; probably forgot I was one of them. Weeks ago, I saw her heading toward the door when you walked in too.”
“She was leaving?” I ask.
“Yes. Bored, until you. Miss Rich gave up on Essence. And her eye for art stinks.”
I lift my brows. “Are you feeling better after your rant, Alexis?”
“No! Give Essence any funding that—”
“We aren’t at that part in our relationship, mi hija, where she’d feel comfortable taking large sums of money from me. However, I’ve asserted myself in some regard.” I gesture to the appetizers. “Once she’s ready...”
“Yeah, you’re moving at Essence’s timing. These past few weeks with her have felt like un familia, Dad.”
“I know.” I run a comforting hand over Alexis’ forearm.
The sting of her mama’s absence fades. “Oh, Benedict is here. Mmmm...”
I glare through the fray of affluent aesthetes in search of my college amigo. “Mmm, what?”
“Javi may look like a bad boy—”
“Alexis,” I growl when my eyes finally snap to where hers have fallen. Benedict is surrounded by Japanese businessmen, although they stand just behind him. No, I’m mistaken. They’re following the dude at his side.
Almost... like henchmen.
Again, I mimic my daughter in disgust. “Mmm?”
“Yes, yum! His friend is hot, dangerous... mysterious...”
“Maybe there’ll be two deaths tonight,” I wag a chastising finger, “because he’s older than me.”
“Oh, hush. I’m taken and don’t have the confidence to approach someone so...” she whispers, walking off.
Someone so, what?
As they approach, I assess that the stranger’s suit makes Benedict’s look like it was purchased at a discount department store. I’d ask about his tailor, but now I’m sizing him up. You better not look at mi hija.
“Manny, my main man,” Benedict says once they’ve reached me.
“Benedict,” I growl, my eyes asking who this is, and where’s the other fuck?
“Antonio Emmanuel Silva, Ryoichi Zaitso. Ryo,” he turns to the Japanese man, “once you’re in Silva’s good graces, you may refer to him as Manny. Ahem. Or-or you may now.”
“Call me Señor Silva.”
Ryoichi bows.
“Chill, Manny.” Benedict chuckles, sipping champagne. “When I was first introduced to Ryoichi, he gave me half a head nod.”
And now he’s bowing to me. I see.
I turn to my friend, not interested in Ryoichi’s apparent appreciation of me or my lack of respect for him. “Where’s Lara?”
“Lara?” Ryoichi lifts a brow.
“He’ll arrive shortly,” Benedict assures.
“Señor Silva.” Ryoichi returns his attention to me. “It’s an honor to have made your acquaintance. I hope that one day we transition from such formal terms. I will, of course, purchase a few of your assets this evening in good faith.”
He walks off, and the Japanese sharks who stood back flank him now.
“A few to Ryoichi means all of them. Brother, I’m looking out for you.”
“If you’re looking out for me, where’s Gustavo?” I snap, sniffing out the blood of my enemy. Also, the tension in the room since Ryoichi’s arrival isn’t lost on me. So, I break, gritting out, “Alright, who is he?”
“Someone with bigger bank than the two of us.” Benedict winks.
“Who?”
Benedict steps closer and whispers, “Yakuza. A fucking boss, at that.”
Irritation charges through my veins. “You invited—”
“Some say Ryoichi is not the boss of all bosses.” Benedict pauses, hiding a grin behind his champagne glass. “That’s actually an Italian reference, but perhaps it applies here. In any case, he’s high ranking. Possibly a billionaire, too.”